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STORIES 

OF 

INDIAN DAYS 


BY 

ELLA M. POWERS 


EDUCATIONAL PUBLISHING COMPANY 
BOSTON 

NEW YORK CHICAGO SAN FRANCISCO 


F2 9 


S 


Copyright, 1912 

BY 

EDUCATIONAL PUBLISHING COMPANY 



©C!.A:^ 1 its 72 

nAJTi ! 


CONTENTS 


O 

3; Only an Indian Baby 

A Fearless Young Captive . 

An Imaginary Band of Defenders . 
A Morning Rumbullion 
Little Sally Gerrish 
An Indian’s Gratitude 
A Dog’s Devotion . . . . 

A Good Shot .... 

A Pioneer Heroine . . . . 

A Seventeenth Century Heroine . 
How Daniel Skated for His Life 
A Girl’s Heroism 
A Brave Colonial Maid . 

Wilt Thou Name the Traitor? 


5 

'3 

21 

27 

35 

45 

53 

63 

69 

81 

89 

lOI 

109 

117 


3 



t€ 


>> 


SHE GENTLY PADDLED DOWN THE STREAM 




STORIES OF 

INDIAN DAYS 


ONLY AN mDIAN BABY 

Near the river Saco there lived a famous 
sachem whose name was Squando. He was a 
noted leader of the Indians and for many miles 
about he was known for his valor, skill and 
fearlessness. Among the eastern Indians few 
were of greater importance and extended more 
influence than Squando. 

One day, his squaw, taking her little papoose, 
went to the river and after getting into her canoe, 
she gently paddled down the stream. 

The day was bright and fair. To the little 
bright-eyed papoose she crooned an old Indian 
lullaby; but the merry, laughing child was 
too much interested in all that it saw to sleep. 

Then the mother called the child’s attention 

5 


6 


INDIAN DAYS 


to the birds that were flying about over the 
water and along the shore. 

The child stretched its arms upward to the 
trees that grew along the shore, listened to the 
bird calls, and laughed at the little squirrels 
as they scampered along on the rocks by the 
bank and ran up the tall trees. 

The Indian squaw ceased humming the old 
lullaby and seemed lost in thought; then a 
smile showed itself upon her sun-burned face, 
and she said aloud: 

'‘My little papoose shall some day be a great 
chief; a great sagamore my wee papoose shall 
be.’’ 

Very dear was this little Indian baby to her, 
and did not its father once walk twenty miles 
to get a particular herb to cure the baby when 
it was ill ? 

How fond they were of this wonderful papoose ! 
And, as they sat by their fire watching the flames 
grow brighter and higher, they planned brave 
deeds for their little papoose — braver than 
any that had ever yet been achieved by the great 
King Massasoit or his son. King Philip! Ah! 


INDIAN DAYS 7 

great deeds their little papoose should do when 
he should grow up! 

No, there was never before such a bright, 
unusual child; never had they seen or heard 
of one who was so strong, so fearless and so 
alert. 

The Indian mother thought of all the wonder- 
ful things which the child had done as she glided 
down the stream that day. Little did she think 
of danger. Not a sound betrayed to her that 
peril was near. She thought not of danger 
as she gazed at the floating, dreamy clouds 
above her and, in her mind, thought of her 
little child and the life of glory that was to be 
his. 

Suddenly, as she paddled the canoe around 
the bend of the river, she saw before her a 
company of rude sailors. They were almost 
immediately beside her canoe. 

Jeering, taunting and insulting words now 
broke the silence which had but a moment 
before surrounded her. Eagerly she peered 
about for some means of escape, but there was 
no shelter or protection for her and her baby. 


8 


INDIAN DAYS 


One of the sailors, with a coarse laugh, ex- 
claimed: 

“Come on, let us pitch over this old canoe! 
They say an Indian papoose can swim like a 
duck. Ever try the fun We’ll see if it’s 
true.” 

Before the Indian mother realized what the 
men were saying, they quickly and roughly 
upset the canoe and snatched her baby from her. 
Holding it up above their heads they heeded 
not the entreaties and exertions of the mother 
to save her child, but suddenly the sailor dropped 
the little Indian baby into the stream. 

Down, down the little one sank. The squaw, 
with an almost super-human effort, extricated 
herself, and, with a keen eye she dived for her 
little one. A moment later she had her child 
alive in her arms. The white men were now 
far up the stream. 

Upon her arrival at her wigwam, the Indian 
mother related her story of the attempt made 
to drown her child. Squando, her loved chief, 
listened in silence, but with a set face. Revenge 
was written in every line of his strong, stern 


INDIAN DAYS 


9 


face. Punish the white men he would — and 
soon. He looked with anxiety upon the child, 
who was restless, moaning and ill. 

Days passed. The Indian baby grew worse. 
Their little papoose now took no notice of its 
toy bow and arrow with which it had loved to 
play. In vain the mother sought to arouse the 
baby by shaking and dangling the shining, 
glittering pieces of tin before its eyes. 

Tears streamed from the eyes of the devoted 
Indian mother as she bent fondly over her baby. 
Wringing her hands, she cried: 

“O my little papoose, you cannot go to the 
happy hunting grounds and leave us! O my 
little papoose, you will not — cannot die!” 

‘‘No, no!” hoarsely exclaimed her tall, copper- 
colored chief, ‘‘he will not die.” 

But the chief bent anxiously and eagerly 
over the little child as it lay in its cradle of willow 
and birch. He turned his face away that the 
squaw might not see his apprehension and 
sorrow, for he knew the child was very ill. 

The Indian chief lay down outside the tent 
for a few moments of rest from constant watch- 


lo 


INDIAN DAYS 


ing. Inside the tent, the mother watched on 
through the long night. At times the child 
seemed more quiet when she softly crooned the 
old lullaby. Snatches of it could now and then 
be heard by the chief, who with stern, set face 
vowed vengeance upon the white man. 

“O my little woodland owlet,’’ sang the 
Indian mother, ‘‘sleep, sleep in this silent wood. 
You are safe, little one, safe in your nest; your 
nest of mosses and birch and leaves. O sleep, 
my little one, sweetly sleep.” 

Then came long silences when the child 
seemed to be quietly resting, but soon the moaning 
began, and in vain the mother administered 
the simple remedies and sang the soothing old 
lullaby: 

The owl hoots far o’er the tall pine trees. 
The big moon rides on high; 

O sleep, my little one, sleep and rest. 

While the night wind passes by. 

Thy father lies outside our tent. 

Of battle and hunt he dreams; 

O sleep, my little one, sleep and rest. 

While the moonlight on thee beams. 


INDIAN DAYS 


II 


My little papoose, sleep sweet and rest, 

O rest, and wake in the morn; 

Wake as of old in the morn, little one. 
When the new bright day shall dawn. 

And so through the night the father and mother 
watched their little child. The distant owl 
hooted mournfully. The moon rode on above 
the tall, dark tree tops. The chief occasionally 
threw himself down upon the deer skin mat at 
the opening to the tent. He slept little. The 
mother, by the side of her baby, slept none. 
Her eyes never left the face of her little loved 
papoose. 

Toward morning, the last flicker of the flames 
of the camp fire leaped feebly upward. The 
child was plainly worse. The little eyelids 
drooped and closed forever over the bright eyes 
of her loved baby. Never again would those 
laughing little black eyes look into the Indian 
mother’s face. 

‘‘Gone!” whispered Squando, clenching his 
knife and gazing with a face as of stone upon 
that of his child. The mother’s cry of anguish 


12 


INDIAN DAYS 


rent the still morning air. Flinging herself 
upon her knees, and stretching her arms across 
the little form of her darling, she turned toward 
Squando, her chief, and sobbing bitterly cried 
out 

“Kill them! Oh, kill them all! Kill these 
white men. They have killed my baby, my 
little papoose!” 

Squando’s face was like stone — immovable, 
set, but passionate, unrestrained revenge was 
written in every line of his countenance. In 
his heart surged bitter feelings of intense hatred 
toward the English. 

From that day Squando, the mighty Sachem 
employed all his great art, wide influence and 
mighty power to excite the Indians against the 
white settlers. The seed of hatred grew rapidly 
and vengeance followed. 

Squando and all his followers embraced every 
opportunity to rob, murder, and persecute the 
white men. No deed was too brutal, too bloody, 
or too savage. In the French and Indian war 
there was no warrior who cherished a more bitter 
hatred of the whites than Squando. 


A FEARLESS YOUNG CAPTIVE 


Year after year the Indians had watched the 
white men. They had seen their settlements 
grow while their own hunting grounds were 
diminishing. 

They said, “Ugh! We will kill white man! 
We kill him off! White man get all our hunting 
grounds.’’ 

So the tribes of Indians began to attack many 
of the settlements. They murdered the inhabi- 
tants, burned their houses, and killed their 
cattle. The white people were in constant 
fear of their red foes. 

Many times the Indians took the white men as 
prisoners. Many of them were taken through 
the dense forests to Canada. The French, who 
aided the Indians, had promised great sums of 
gold to every Indian who would capture a white 
settler and bring him alive to Canada. 

Such a reward led the Indians to be on the 

13 


14 


INDIAN DAYS 


alert. They were always watching — slyly 
watching for a chance to capture the white man. 
They did not engage in open battle and in 
a fair way, but they would slowly and softly 
creep along and then suddenly fall upon the 
settlers in the night time, or when the men were 
away in the fields. These were the times the 
Indians would choose to murder the people, 
destroy their homes and capture their prisoners. 
These were terrible days to the colonists. 

Phineas Stevens was a brave colonial boy, 
who lived in a little New England settlement. 
One day he took his three little brothers and 
went to the meadow near his home where the 
men were making hay. The boys were very 
happy down there in the beautiful meadow, 
running about and playing. 

There was a brook that wound through this 
meadow, and beside it Phineas and the little 
boys loved to play. To-day they followed it 
on and on, farther and farther away. They 
watched the little wrigglers and occasionally 
caught sight of a tiny fish as it darted along 
in the shadow of the tall ferns on the bank. 


INDIAN DAYS 


15 


Farther and farther they wandered, down, 
down past the great clump of bushes, little 
dreaming of what was to happen. 

Phineas was just about to turn back when, 
as he glanced behind the bushes, his heart almost 
stood still. He was horrified to see that they 
were ambushed by the Indians. The war- 
painted red faces gleamed at the boys from 
every side. From their concealed station, the 
Indians had arranged for this unexpected attack. 
Unseen peril was on every side. 

Phineas saw at once that the Indians had 
entrapped them by lurking behind the bushes. 
They had come upon the boys stealthily, cau- 
tiously, from a distant thicket. They had 
softly crept over the brow of the hill, then had 
crept nearer, nearer through the tall thick grass 
on the hillside until they reached the thicket 
and the bushes nearer by. They were armed 
with clubs and tomahawks. 

Phineas knew that he and his little brothers 
were captives. He knew, too, that it would be 
useless to scream. The men in the hayfield 
were too far away to hear, and they thought the 
boys had gone home, no doubt. 


i6 


INDIAN DAYS 


Phineas fought desperately and tried to free 
himself from a savage looking Indian. He 
said to himself, “ I must not seem to be afraid.” 

He was, indeed, a very plucky little fellow. 
One of the Indians seemed to admire the courage 
of the boy, for he suddenly nodded his head, 
and said, White squaw’s brave boy.” 

Just then, another Indian, with quick blows, 
killed both the younger brothers before the eyes 
of Phineas. The boy nearly staggered to the 
ground with the horrible sight, but in a moment 
was resisting, expostulating, begging them by 
turns, to save his life and that of his remaining 
four-year-old brother. 

Again the tallest Indian said, “You white 
Brave. You make Brave like Chief. You 
come with us. We make big Brave of you.” 

Phineas had no time to listen or try to think 
what the Indian was saying, for, just then, he 
turned and saw that another Indian was about 
to kill his little brother — the pride of the 
whole household — ■ the beautiful child of four. 
Phineas threw himself between the Indian 
and the child and endeavored to protect him. 


INDIAN DAYS 


17 


The tall Indian then stepped close to him 
and said sternly, ‘‘You come to Canada. White 
papoose too little. Many moons to Canada. 
White papoose not walk so far. Too far. Kill 
papoose.’’ 

Phineas now seemed to understand. He 
saw at once that they intended to kill his little 
brother because he was not able to walk to 
Canada. Surmising this, Phineas stooped in 
front of his baby brother and quickly said, 
“Get on my back. Put your arms tightly 
around my neck. Now we will show the Indians 
how well I can carry you on my back. ” 

The little fellow did as he was directed, and 
Phineas Stevens, by signs and actions, made 
the Indians understand that he would carry his 
little brother in that way — -on his back. 

“Ugh!” grunted the tall Indian. “Long 
way to Canada. Many moons to Canada. 
White papoose heavy. ” 

But Phineas, by more signs, assured them 
that he could and would carry his little brother 
any distance, no matter how long or how hard. 
And so the life of the little boy was spared. 


i8 


INDIAN DAYS 


The party started for Canada. A long distance 
it was, from the home <vhere these boys lived, 
to Canada. Phineas was a strong boy of fifteen, 
but such a task would seem to call for the strength 
of a man. Yet the boy never flinched in his 
determination. 

Day after day, through the rough, dense 
forests the brave boy trudged with his little 
brother on his back. Long grew the days and 
wearisome the swift journey as the hero dragged 
himself on, urged forward by the Indian, until 
at last the journey came to an end. The boy 
was nearly exhausted, but happy in the thought 
that the life of his little brother had been spared 
to him. 

After a few years, with other prisoners from 
their town, the boys were redeemed, and they 
returned to their old home. Phineas grew to 
be a great man in his town, saving it from dis- 
aster at the hands of the enemy, and helping in 
many ways to render important service to his 
country. 




•‘the INDIANS CREPT NEARER 






AN IMAGINARY BAND OF DEFENDERS 


In the early days, when the Indians were 
prowling about and making frequent attacks 
upon the settlers, it was necessary for the white 
men to build strong garrison houses. 

These houses were often large enough to hold 
several families. They were surrounded by 
high walls of timber. These walls sometimes 
reached to the eaves of the house. Then there 
were strong gates. These gates, as well as the 
doors to the house, were secured by iron bolts 
and bars. 

In one place at Oyster River, the Indians 
planned to make an attack upon one of these 
garrison houses in which lived a family by the 
name of Bickford. In some way the father of 
the children learned that the Indians were 
coming; so Mr. Bickford hastily sent his children 
with his wife down the river. 

After they were safely sent away, Bickford 

21 


22 


INDIAN DAYS 


shut and barred the great gates and doors, 
saying, “Now, you Red-Skins! Come on! I 
alone can drive every one of you away!’’ 

He looked carefully about, but not an Indian 
was yet to be seen. 

“I know your method,” he said to himself, 
as he looked at his guns and ammunition, “I 
know you are never seen before you execute 
your atrocious crimes; but I will be a match 
for you this time, see if I’m not!” 

Bickford eagerly looked out through a loop 
hole and added, “O yes, I know you! You 
are planning to take me by surprise. I sup- 
pose this very minute some of you are hiding 
behind logs and bushes. I will fight you single 
handed here in my fortress, though. Come on!” 

Just then, sure enough, the Indians crept 
nearer; and Bickford, through his little loop- 
hole, could see the savage, painted faces of the 
foes lurking behind the bushes. On they quietly 
came. How many were there ? One form 
after another kept coming into view. Nearer 
and nearer they stealthily approached the house, 
and soon they could be plainly seen. 


INDIAN DAYS 


^3 


When they came within calling distance they 
endeavored to persuade Bickford to surrender. 
To this the brave man gave no heed. He said 
scornfully, “I despise you and your promises. 
I scorn your threats.” 

Then, in imperious and savage tones, the 
Indians demanded that the man surrender. 
Again Bickford cried out, “No surrender!” 
Into his mind had come a scheme by which he 
could make the Indians believe that there was 
an armed force in the garrison. 

Immediately, in stentorian tones, he began to 
call out various commands that are given for 
commanding a body of men. The Indians, 
in surprise, listened to the orders which he was 
giving with such authority and so powerfully. 

“Shoulder Arms! Right About Face! 
March!” came the orders in quick succession, 
followed by certain noises that were wonderfully 
like the tramp, tramp, of soldiers’ feet. 

The Indians looked at each other in surprise, 
bewilderment and alarm. Still the orders con- 
tinued for the troops to march here and fire 
there. 


24 


INDIAN DAYS 


“Aim! Fire!’’' Bang! bang! went the guns 
of the garrison house, one after another; for 
Mr. Bickford, in the house, was running from 
one place to another, catching up his various 
guns and discharging them with most wonderful 
rapidity. So fast were the guns fired that it 
seemed impossible that any one person could 
discharge them with such marvellous celerity. 

The Indians could hardly believe they had 
been so misinformed, and drew still nearer. 
With renewed energy came more commands 
to the imaginary troops. 

“Attention!” Not a sound was heard in the 
garrison. 

“ Order — Arms ! ” Instantly the ends of many 
muskets heavily struck the floor. The Indians 
listened in astonishment. 

“ Carry — Arms ! Order — Arms ! Present — 
Arms! Right Shoulder — Arms! Right Face! 
Forward — March! ” came the orders and at the 
word, “March!” a drum was heard to beat and 
again was heard the tramp, tramp, as of many 
feet. 

Little did the Indians suspect that only one 


INDIAN DAYS 


25 


man was in that garrison. Bickford, by making 
different noises, by rattling various pieces of 
wood, tin and muskets, and making sounds 
like the thud, rattle, and thwack of arms, com- 
pletely deceived the Indians, who seemed struck 
dumb. 

Bickford knew that he would succeed in 
frightening the savages; but, to make the scheme 
sure, he dexterously and artfully changed his 
coat and nimbly appeared at a large loop-hole 
with first one coat, then another; then he changed 
his hat; appearing first at one loop-hole with 
one hat and immediately at another loop-hole 
with a different hat. Now it was a tall hat, 
then no hat at all, then a low cap, then a 
light-colored hat, followed by a dark-colored 
cap. 

Bickford worked lively with his hats and his 
coats, for first it was an old green coat, then a 
gray coat was immediately changed for a black 
coat, and then no coat at all. Running about 
at the various loop-holes, and firing constantly 
and unerringly, Bickford completely deceived 
the Red-Skins who now certainly thought that 


26 


INDIAN DAYS 


the garrison was strongly fortified by a well 
equipped force of armed soldiers. 

After a hurried consultation, the Indians 
evidently decided that they were opposed by 
too large a force, for they quickly but silently 
began to retreat. 

Bickford was soon left alone, unharmed and 
sole master of the fortress which he had so 
adroidy and artfully defended. His stratagem 
had succeeded. The Indians had been com- 
pletely routed by an army of just one brave man. 

The Indians proceeded on their way and 
plundered and killed many settlers who were 
off their guard. At last they reached a place 
opposite Portsmouth. From this place, cannon 
was fired and the Indian party dispersed. They 
were quickly and easily pursued because a 
light snow had fallen in the night. A swamp 
impeded their progress and when they saw 
death was certain at the hands of their enemy, 
they threw themselves into this swamp, leaving 
their packs and plunder to their pursuers. 


A MORNING RUMBULLION 


In a little house by a saw-mill lived John Dean, 
with his wife and children. The falls in the 
stream at this point made music for them day 
and night. But John Dean had little time to 
stop and look at the waters of Oyster River 
or listen to the music of the falls. He was a 
busy man, and after a long day’s work he was 
glad to rest on this evening in July. 

“There are rumors of Indians lurking in 
the woods near by,” he said, as he glanced in 
the direction of the western branch of the 
Piscataqua. 

“ Has any mischief been done lately ” in- 
quired Mrs Dean anxiously, as she lifted the big 
kettle from the crane in the fireplace. 

“No, not yet,” said John Dean, “and Tm 
thinking they may be only hunting parties after 
all,” he added, as he took down a gun and 
examined it with unusual care. 

27 


28 


INDIAN DAYS 


Presently the family ate their simple, whole- 
some evening meal. John Dean fully believed 
the twelve garrison houses in the settlement 
were sufficient protection; although he knew 
that many times the inhabitants, thinking 
themselves safe, would remain in their own 
unfortified houses. At such times even those 
in the garrisons were often without powder and 
were poorly prepared to defend themselves. 

“Is there much powder at . the garrison 
houses?’’ earnestly inquired Mrs Dean. 

“Not as much as I wish,” replied John, as he 
finished eating the last of his Indian pudding, 
“but I think there is little truth in these rumors 
of two hundred and fifty Indians coming.” 

Little did John Dean know that the tribes of 
St. John, Penobscot and Norridgwog had made 
every preparation for an attack upon their little 
settlement. Little did he know that, at that 
very moment, one division of the Indians was 
creeping cautiously along on one side of the 
river and the other division was secretly lurking 
in ambush on the other side. What would have 
been his thoughts had he known that, at that 


INDIAN DAYS 


29 


very moment, the Chief was taking his final 
keen observations upon the unsuspecting settlers 
and was giving the command, ‘'At sunrise, be 
ready! The first gun will be the signal for 
attack!’' 

Knowing and believing nothing of this deadly 
plan, John Dean quietly said, “I have a hard 
day’s work before me to-morrow. I must get 
up early. ” And the door of the little house was 
closed and soon all the family were asleep. 

The night passed quietly, and before sunrise 
John Dean arose and soon was ready to leave 
for his day’s work. Looking about the room 
to see that nothing had been forgotten, he opened 
the door of his house to go forth upon his day’s 
work. Instantly a shot rang through the air, 
striking him. He staggered and fell backward. 

At once the people of the settlement were 
aroused and alarm spread through the inhabi- 
tants. Immediately the terrible attack began. 
From every direction came shot after shot. 
Flames burst forth from the defenseless house. 
Five garrison houses were soon destroyed. 
Men were vainly trying to defend themselves 


30 


INDIAN DAYS 


and their families. Women and children were 
shrieking in terror. Many were killed and others 
were being led away as captives. One little 
boy of nine years of age was compelled to run 
between two long rows of Indians as a mark 
for them to throw their hatchets at, and at last, 
exhausted and frightened, the little Drew boy 
fell dead before their eyes. 

The wife of John Dean, at whom the first 
gun was fired, was taken, and, with her daughter, 
she was carried about two miles up the river. 

At length they reached the hut of an old 
Indian who looked up at the little party with a 
savage curiosity. In deep, guttural tones, and 
in a language that Mrs. Dean did not thoroughly 
understand, her captor said to the old Indian, 
‘‘You look after these prisoners; you take care 
that they do not get away.” 

The old Indian agreed to look after the pris- 
oners, and so Mrs. Dean and her daughter were 
left in the custody of the old Indian. He scanned 
their features closely, grunted neither approv- 
ingly nor disdainfully, but very soon after the 
others had returned to their work of destruction. 


INDIAN DAYS 


31 


this old Indian, looking at Mrs. Dean, groaned, 
and making up a wry face, pointed to his head. 
After a second and longer groan, he said woe- 
fully, ‘‘Me much pain in head.’’ Then tapping 
his head, he came close to Mrs. Dean and said 
fiercely, “Cure me, you must cure me.” 

Mrs. Dean was quick to think and she saw 
a means of escape if only she could persuade the 
old Indian to follow her directions. 

“Occapee, ocacpee!” she exclaimed. “Get 
occapee, quick!” 

Now “occapee” is the Indian word for rum. 
Mrs. Dean knew that this Indian had a bottle 
which had been taken from her house. The 
old Red man produced the bottle without delay 
and Mrs. Dean measured out a liberal quantity 
of it and insisted that the patient drink it all. 
The old Indian liked this supposed kindness, 
expressed great satisfaction, took the big dose, 
and soon fell into a deep and sound sleep. 

Mrs. Dean, assuring herself that he would 
not awaken, arose silently, and cautiously 
looking about her, said softly to her daughter, 
“Now is our time! Come!” Carefully they 


32 


INDIAN DAYS 


Stole forth from their prison-place, out farther 
and farther into the woods, then the clearing, 
and on to a familiar tract of land. They were 
safe from their captors long before the Indians 
returned to claim her and her daughter. 

“Occapee’' had saved them. 


I 



THE SQUAW SAT DOWN MEEKLY BY THE FIRE ” 


LITTLE SALLY GERRISH 


Her real name was Sarah, but everybody called 
her Little Sally. In Dover, New Hampshire, 
she lived long ago when Dover was but a little 
settlement. In 1689 she was an unusually 
lovely child, seven years old. 

All that June day she had seen strange move- 
ments going on in the garrison house where 
she lived, with many others, with her grandpa. 
Major Waldron. Her grandpa had been an 
old trader with the Indians. 

She said, ‘‘My grandpa knows all these 
Indians. I guess if the Indians should come 
here, my grandpa could drive them all away.’’ 
She knew that the savages in that vicinity feared 
her grandpa, for once he had captured over 
three hundred of them. Some had been hanged 
and others had been sold. That all happened 
five years before she was born, but she had heard 
all about it. 


35 


36 


INDIAN DAYS 


Then, too, there were five garrison houses in 
their settlement. These had strong walls of 
timber all about them and the great bars and 
bolts were so heavy that her little hands could 
not even move them. 

Little Sally nodded her head wisely and said, 
“I am not afraid.” But she crept softly up 
into her mamma’s lap and said, “To-day I 
heard a neighbor tell grandpa that Indians were 
near.” 

“What did your grandpa say.?” asked her 
mamma, as she stroked her little daughter’s 
soft curls. 

“Grandpa laughed,” said Sally, “and he 
said, “You go and plant your pumpkins. I’ll 
tell you when the Indians break out. Leave 
me to deal with them.” 

“Grandpa says there is no danger,” said her 
mamma, but she kissed the confiding child with 
far more than usual warmth and tenderness. 

Just at that moment a knock was heard at 
the door. When it was opened, Sally saw a 
fat Indian squaw standing there. In broken 
English she grunted out, “Squaw want rest. 


INDIAN DAYS 


37 


Squaw rest by fire. Squaw walk much far. 
Can squaw stay ? ” 

Many times before this, squaws had asked 
for shelter and rest, so this one was admitted 
and was kindly treated. 

The squaw sat down meekly by the fire and 
at first said little. She took good care to see 
in what manner the door was bolted and nothing 
seemed to escape her notice. 

By signs and actions the squaw told Sally’s 
grandpa that on the next day a number of Indians 
were coming to trade with him. When Major 
Waldron was asked what he would do if the 
strange Indians came, he said carelessly, “By 
lifting my finger I could assemble one hundred 
men.” 

No one suspected any evil design or treachery. 
Soon little Sally, tired of looking at the unattrac- 
tive, nodding, fat squaw, went to bed. One 
by one the others followed and soon the garrison 
house was quiet. Little did the inmates realize 
that the Indians had never forgiven the old 
Major and were now, after twelve years, planning 
their final revenge. 


38 


INDIAN DAYS 


After a time, when all was still, the Indian 
squaw rose quietly, crept across the floor, softly 
drew the great bolts and gave a low whistle as a 
signal to the Indians who were hidden near by 
and were awaiting her signal. 

Immediately the Indians rushed into the 
garrison house and began their terrible work of 
revenge. Some stationed themselves at the 
door while others rushed at once into Major 
Waldron’s room and to the other rooms. 

When little Sally was suddenly awakened by 
the noise, the yells of triumph and the confusion, 
she jumped out of bed and hid herself, hoping 
to escape their search. 

She breathlessly listened. She knew her 
grandpa was fighting the Indians with his sword. 
She knew by the sounds that he had driven them 
from his room to the hall, and her little eyes 
glistened as she said to herself, “Grandpa will 
not let the Indians kill him.” 

But at that moment she heard a heavy 
blow and a fall. Then an Indian’s voice was 
heard saying, “Who shall judge the Indians 
now ? ” 


INDIAN DAYS 


39 


She knew they had killed her grandpa and 
she hid her face in her hands and waited breath- 
lessly, trembling and praying, alone in her 
hiding place. 

Then she heard some of the Indians say in 
mocking tones, ‘‘White squaw, go get victuals! 
Indians want victuals. Must eat! Go!” 

The women, weeping and fearing for their 
lives, were forced to get food for the Indians. 
They sat down amid shouts and jeers and ate 
almost all the little store of food in the house. 
After they ate their meal, the Indians pillaged 
the house. They found poor little Sally in her 
hiding place and, with others, she was compelled 
to go with them as a captive. 

Then began little Sally’s long journey to 
Canada. She was compelled to travel half 
naked, and often barefoot, through the pathless 
forest, over rough, craggy mountains and reedy 
swamps. The little girl trudged on, exposed by 
day and night to the wild beasts, the weather, 
and to the threats of the Indians. 

Many days and nights during the first part 
of their journey, Sally suffered from the venemous 


40 


INDIAN DAYS 


stings of numbers of insects with which the 
dense woods abounded. 

Night after night little Sally sobbed herself 
to sleep, thinking of her old home, her dear 
mother, her kind grandpa, the boys and girls 
with whom she daily played, the Otis children, 
baby Margaret, and all her loved ones she would 
never see again. Then she would cry out in 
her loneliness, but an Indian squaw would almost 
always come to her side and say, “Hush! if 
the chief hears you cry, he may kill you.’’ 

One day, when she was walking by the bank 
of a river, a stout Indian girl came up behind her 
and suddenly pushed the little girl down the 
bank into the river. Sally quickly caught some 
bushes and fortunately escaped drowning, but 
she dared not tell the Indians how it happened 
her clothes were dripping wet. 

Once she was so weary with the day’s travel 
that she threw herself down at night exhausted. 
When the morning dawned she did not waken 
until the Indians had left the camp. She was 
filled with terror to find that she was alone, 
exposed not only to danger and wild beasts, but 


INDIAN DAYS 


41 


she thought she had been left to starve to death. 
She cried out in her anguish, ‘‘O am I left alone 
here to die ?” 

A light snow had fallen in the night and she 
could distinguish the tracks of the Indians. 
Crying bitterly, stumbling on, and often falling, 
she followed the tracks. After a time she caught 
up with the party and the Indian squaws treated 
her with more consideration than was their 
usual custom. 

At one time on their long journey, an unusually 
large fire was kindled. Sally, with the others 
stood around it. At last Sally said, ‘‘Why do 
you build such a big fire to-day.?’' 

A young Indian answered savagely, “This 
big fire is made to roast you upon.” 

The innocent child screamed, ran to her 
master, threw herself upon him, clasped her arms 
around his neck and said, “O do not kill me!” 

He put her down upon the ground and told 
her that he would save her if she would behave 
better and stop her crying. Then he commanded 
that she be merry and dance for him. “Dance! 
Now sing for big chief!” he said. 


42 


INDIAN DAYS 


After many long weeks they arrived in Canada. 
Sally remained in the hands of the Indians until 
the winter was nearly over. During the time 
she was frequently sold from one to another; 
each time she hoped there would be some possi- 
bility of being ransomed and the thought of going 
back to her loved ones was her one desire. 

After a time, Sally was purchased by a wealthy 
French lady, who treated her kindly. She was 
sent to a nunnery, where she was educated. 

When Sir William Phipps was in Quebec, 
Sally Gerrish was exchanged and was returned 
to her old friends at her home in Dover. They 
had given up all hope of ever seeing her again, 
and their joy and thansgiving was inexpressible 
upon learning that little Sally was once more 
among her friends. 






<( 




SHE DISCOVERED AN INDIAN CAUTIOUSLY APPROACHING 




AN INDIAN’S GRATITUDE 


On that June night, when the Indians killed 
Major Waldron and burned so many houses^ 
Elizabeth Heard was returning from Portsmouth. 
She, with her three sons and a daughter, passed 
up the river unobserved by the Indians, who at 
that very time were pillaging the houses of the 
little settlement of Dover. 

“Listen!” said one of the boys in their boat, 
“what is that strange noise?” 

“Something is wrong at the settlement,” 
said Mrs. Heard, terror and fear arising in her 
mind. “Let us land quietly and go up at once 
to Major Waldron’s house.” 

Suspecting danger of some sort, the little party 
quietly landed and went directly to Major Wal- 
dron’s garrison. 

“What are those strange lights?” inquired 
the girl; “they are unusual.” All noticed the 
lights as they approached the house. 

45 


46 


INDIAN DAYS 


Mrs. Heard apprehended danger, but said, 
‘‘Perhaps those lights are set up to direct the 
way for any who would seek refuge.” Her 
voice trembled in her anxiety and fear and the 
girl detected her mother’s terror. 

At length they reached the house and knocked 
upon the great gate of the outer timber walls. 
No answer came. Again they knocked. Silence 
remained within. 

“Well,” exclaimed one of the boys, “I’ll find 
put what this means. I will climb up the wall 
and find out what the trouble is.” 

With no hesitation, but with skilful agility, he 
climbed to the top of the rough timber wall. 
To his inexpressible surprise he saw an Indian, 
armed with a gun, standing as guard in the door 
of the house. 

Hastily descending, he told his mother and 
the others of his discovery. Upon hearing this, 
Mrs. Heard was so overcome with fright that a 
sort of paralysis seemed to seize her. She was 
unable to walk, run, or even stand. She begged 
her children to flee. “ I cannot go, ” she gasped, 
“but leave me and save yourselves! Hurry!” 


INDIAN DAYS 


47 


‘‘Never!’’ replied her children. “We cannot 
leave you in this way.” We will carry you!” 

“No, no!” remonstrated Mrs. Heard. “We 
should all be overtaken and killed. Go now, 
all of you, and may God protect you!” 

Upon her continued entreaties, they at last 
fled down the path, praying inwardly for the 
safety of all. 

After a little time, Mrs. Heard felt a return 
of sufficient strength which enabled her to crawl 
into some bushes which were near by. With 
some difficulty she at length reached the bushes, 
and in terror lay there, almost crazed with 
fright. She could hear the sounds which told 
her of victims captured, killed and wounded; 
of houses pillaged and plundered. 

At length flames arose from the Waldron and 
Otis houses. The great timber walls were a 
mass of crackling, shooting flames; amidst the 
smoke and crashing of timbers, the gates fell; 
the air was filled with dense smoke and sounds 
of distress were heard. 

During that night, five houses were burned 
besides the mills; twenty-nine people were 


48 


INDIAN DAYS 


taken captive, and twenty-three were killed. 
Each moment, Elizabeth Heard felt might be 
her last as she lay crouching among the bushes, 
trembling and praying for deliverance. 

So expeditious were the Indians in their 
villainous and terrible plot, that before the people 
could be collected from surrounding settlements, 
they had fled with their prisoners and their 
booty. 

Elizabeth kept her place, scarcely daring to 
move lest some Indian should detect her and 
take her as a prisoner or kill her. At last the 
sun began to peep over the eastern hills. Just 
at daylight she discovered an Indian cautiously 
approaching her place of concealment. ‘‘Oh, 
now I am discovered!’’ she thought; “Oh, 
God, be with my children! Spare them, save 
them!” she instinctively cried as she saw the 
Indian approaching nearer. In his hand he 
carried a pistol. He was now standing before 
her; he looked keenly down into her pale, 
frightened face. Not one word did he utter, 
and presently turned and walked away. 

“How strangely he acts! What can it all 


INDIAN DAYS 


49 


mean?’’ she said to herself. ‘‘Can it be he is 
planning some extra torture which will require 
the help of another Indian to execute?” Eliza- 
beth moaned aloud and breathlessly awaited 
her doom. 

Presently the same Indian returned, stood 
before her, looked sharply at her, and was about 
to go, when Mrs. Heard, resolved to know the 
worst, summoned all her courage and said to 
him, “Oh, what is it you wish?” To this 
question the Indian made no answer, but turning, 
ran away yelling. 

Mrs. Heard saw him no more. He must 
have been the last Indian to leave the settlement. 
He satisfied himself that Elizabeth Heard was 
unharmed. And why was her life spared ? 
Why had this Indian come to her twice, turned 
away, and done her no harm ? These were 
thoughts which often came into Elizabeth’s 
mind. 

After a little, when she had recovered from 
her fright, Mrs. Heard recalled with distinct- 
ness the terrible massacre that had occurred 
thirteen years before, in 1676, when Major 


50 


INDIAN DAYS 


Waldron had pretended to be a friend to four 
hundred Indians, but had deceived them. She 
remembered the sham fight the Major had 
planned, how he had seized and disarmed the 
Indians, had taken three hundred of them 
prisoners, had hung some and sold others in 
slavery in foreign parts. 

Elizabeth Heard remembered that one of the 
young Indians had escaped and had sought 
refuge in her house, where she had fed and 
concealed him. Yes, this was the very Indian. 
She remembered well every feature now. Could 
it be possible that he had remembered her kind- 
ness all these years ? He certainly had remem- 
bered her and saved her now in this time of 
peril. She had not recognized him at first, 
so great was her fear, but he had recognized 
her. She remembered too, that at that time 
when she saved his life, he had told her that he 
would never kill her nor any member of her 
family in any future war. He had promised 
her that he would use his influence with the other 
Indians not to molest her or her home. 

Surely this had been a fulfillment of that 


INDIAN DAYS 


51 


promise. The Indian had shown his justice 
and his gratitude. He could not forget a kind- 
ness such as hers had been to him. He could 
now return that kindness, and he did. 

So on that terrible night Elizabeth Heard 
and her house were saved. 




A DOG’S DEVOTION 


‘‘Down, you fine fellow! Down!” exclaimed 
James Carr to his big handsome dog that per- 
sisted in leaping upon the good man and caressing 
his sun-burned face. 

James Carr, the farmer of Pembroke, laughed 
aloud as he patted the head of his friendly dog, 
who was his close companion day and night. 
This magnificent dog was truly a member of the 
household and was its real guardian; for woe 
be to any intruder who should attempt to enter 
that little farmhouse at night. 

Erect upon his hind legs, this dog was almost 
as tall as his master. Sometimes he would 
place his forepaws about the farmer’s neck 
and rest his head affectionately against that of 
his master. 

One morning the dog seemed unusually active 
and devoted. In his eyes was an earnest appeal- 
ing look, he kept closer than ever to Mr. Carr’s 

S3 


54 


INDIAN DAYS 


side; looked up oftener than usual into the 
kind eyes of his master, and seemed more excited 
and interested in every movement made by the 
farmer. 

If Mr. Carr sat down for a moment, the dog 
was immediately by his side, resting one paw 
upon the man’s knee or leaning his shaggy head 
against him, as much as to say, "‘I love you; 
I will guard you.” 

There was necessity for white men to be 
guarded in those early days. For many years 
the people in that vicinity had led a life of watch- 
ing, anxiety and fear because of the Indian 
depredations. Nearly every town had suffered 
from the raids of the Indians. Houses had 
been burned, women and children had been 
killed, and fathers and brothers had been taken 
captives and led off to Canada. This little 
town, however, situated upon the banks of the 
Merrimac River, had been very fortunate; for 
as yet, no man had been killed by the Indians. 

On this morning of May i, 1748, Mr. Carr, 
as usual, shouldered his gun as he was about 
to leave his home for his day’s work. 


INDIAN DAYS 


55 


‘‘Down, you fine fellow! Down!’’ again 
exclaimed James Carr as the dog caught hold 
of his master’s coat and attempted to pull him 
back into the house.” “Don’t you know that 
I have work to do ? I can’t play with you all 
day. I’m going to plough that big field to-day. 
It is quite time.” 

“How strangely the dog acts this morning,” 
thought Carr, as they both walked along the 
narrow path toward the big field. Aloud he 
said, “Now come along, Tiger, and don’t throw 
yourself down right in my way any more. You 
act as if you didn’t want me to go to the big 
field and plough. I’m going to meet Mr. Buntin 
and his little son, Andrew, now. Andrew is only 
ten years old; you can play with him.” 

After they had walked some distance, James 
Carr met Mr. Buntin and his little son Andrew, 
and soon they were all ploughing in the large 
field on the west side of the river in the present 
township of Bow nearly opposite the mouth 
of the Suncook river. 

In the afternoon, Andrew’s father stopped 
work for a moment, wiped his perspiring fore- 


56 


INDIAN DAYS 


head and, looking across the clear waters of the 
river, admired the beautiful scenery about them. 
The dark evergreen trees beyond the field were 
in marked contrast with the fine lacedike work 
of the newly blossomed, light green leaves of the 
maples, elms and birches. 

He was about to resume his work when his 
eye suddenly caught sight of a moving object 
in a dense, far-off thicket of bushes. He looked 
keenly, and for an instant his thought was, “Is 
that a moving figure ? Can that be an Indian ? ’’ 

His breath came quick and his heart beat 
hard as he thought of his home, his wife and his 
little ones beyond the field and in that direction. 
He gazed intently, but seeing nothing more, 
said to himself, “I was mistaken. That was 
only a dead limb from a tree dropping to the 
ground.’’ 

The other two men were at work some distance 
away and Mr. Buntin decided he would make 
no alarm until he came up with them; besides, 
he was sure he had been imagining an Indian. A 
few more furrows and he would reach the others. 

Silendy he worked on; the sun sank lower 


INDIAN DAYS 


57 


and lower; he could now hear the voices of his 
son Andrew and James Carr. How tired they 
were with their long day’s work! 

Just as he reached the end of his long furrow 
and had turned about to speak to the others, 
some Indians swiftly dashed upon the two men 
and little Andrew Buntin. 

James Carr, who was the first to see the savage 
red-skins, snatched his gun and made an effort to 
escape, but his two companions made no resist- 
ance, and as Carr gave one backward glance, 
he saw Mr. Buntin and Andrew taken captives. 

Carr saw that his only hope was to reach the 
river. He was a swift runner and no one in the 
vicinity was so swift a swimmer. He ran across 
the field as he never ran before. He made a 
desperate attempt to reach the river. 

The Indians immediately started in pursuit. 
Faster and faster they ran. The newly-turned 
sod interfered with their speed but Carr was 
perceptibly gaining upon the Indians. The 
Indians shot missiles after Carr; some flew 
above his head, others whizzed by him at one 
side or the other side. 


58 


INDIAN DAYS 


Just as Carr was nearing the shore, a bullet 
struck him. He fell backward to the ground 
and lay motionless with his arms extended. 
The bullet had done its immediate and fatal 
work, for James Carr was dead. 

Just as the savages ran up and were about to 
scalp him, Carr’s great dog bounded forward 
and instantly attacked the Indians. The intelli- 
gent dog seemed to comprehend the terrible 
deed. Showing his teeth, he jumped fiercely 
upon the red-skins as if he would tear them in 
pieces. So fiercely did he attack them that 
one Indian gave the dog a terrific blow with his 
tomahawk, which so stunned the animal that he 
fell as if dead. 

The Indian shrieked exultantly, “Him killed 
now!” and they left the dog, thinking they had 
killed him. 

At the garrison house in Pembroke, the noise 
of firing had been heard; but, as it was not 
repeated, and as it was near night, the people 
decided not to venture forth on an immediate 
pursuit. 

“Besides,” said one of the men there, “it is 


INDIAN DAYS 


59 


probable we should fall into an ambuscade if 
we should go forth to-night.” 

In the morning several men from the garrison 
started out to learn the cause of the firing the 
previous evening. When they reached the field, 
they knew that something unusual had happened. 

‘‘Tracks of a struggle are here,” said one of 
the men, as he looked closely at the ground. 

“Indians!” said another with bated breath 
and white face. Suddenly one of the party heard 
the low, piteous moan of a dog. The faint cry 
seemed almost human in its sorrow and grief. 

Approaching the spot from whence came the 
mournful sound, the men saw the devoted, sor- 
rowing dog faithfully guarding the dead body 
of the kind master whom he had loved so deeply. 
With a heart-rending moan, the dog looked up 
into the faces of the men with appealing eyes 
full of tragic grief, then laid his nose in the open 
palm of his master's hand. 

The men understood the tragedy. They 
knew it too well. Others had met such deaths 
at the hands of the Indians. They were not to 
escape in their little settlement. 


6o 


INDIAN DAYS 


“We must get the dog away,” said one of the 
men. 

“Yes,” aswered another, “but it’s no easy 
task to do that.” 

The dog, seeming to understand their words, 
only buried his head deeper by the side of his 
master and, with reproachful eyes and a plaintive 
groan, refused to leave his only friend. 

“Come, come, my fine fellow,” said one of 
the men, “come with me.” 

But the weary, vigilant dog refused to move 
from James Carr’s side. No words produced any 
effect other than convulsive whines and moans. 

The men coaxed, threatened, caressed and 
used force. All their endeavors seemed to avail 
nothing. One after another tried to persuade 
the dog to come away, but to no purpose. The 
dog would, at such times, only howl in such 
piteous tones that the men found it quite useless 
to insist and had not the heart to forcibly compel 
the dog to go away. So for a time the devoted 
dog was permitted to sit by his master’s side. 

Such affectionate fidelity, such abject grief, 
had never been witnessed in a dog. 


INDIAN DAYS 


6i 


The faithful watch continued until James 
Carr was taken home and laid to rest. No more 
faithful mourner was ever beheld at the grave 
of man than this brave dog, who instinctively had 
felt the coming tragedy, had tried to avert it, 
and had so devotedly loved his best friend. 

Andrew Buntin, with his father was taken through the 
wilderness to Canada, and sold to a French merchant in 
Montreal. They remained in captivity eleven months, 
when they made their escape. They fortunately reached 
home in safety. Andrew Buntin died in defence of his 
country at White Plains, October 28, 1776, aged thirty- 
eight years. 



“he aimed straight at the heart of the bear” 



A GOOD SHOT 


In the early days, when there were few settle- 
ments, and most of the country was a wilderness, 
there were many wild beasts prowling about 
both in the forests and around the homes of the 
settlers. Bears and wolves were often seen near 
the little cabins and every man had his musket 
loaded ready to fire and kill the beasts. 

Little Tommy Beckwith had rushed into the 
house where he lived and many a time he had 
exclaimed, “O Mamma! there is another lamb 
gone this morning. Another bear must have 
come and eaten the lamb last night.” 

Again Tommy found, when he went out to 
feed the pigs, that a wild beast had come in the 
night and had eaten the little pigs which were 
his very own. Tommy’s greatest loss was his 
pet calf. This loss was too much for him. 

‘‘Oh!” said Tommy, with tears in his big 

brown eyes, “I will learn to shoot!” I know 

63 


64 


INDIAN DAYS 


I can shoot well. I will shoot every one of these 
bears and wolves!’’ 

So Tommy’s papa taught him to shoot. They 
would go out in the great field and very carefully 
and diligently the boy practised. He would 
shoot at various marks which his papa would 
suggest. Many a time when he would aim at 
a certain tree or stump and his bright eye and 
steady hand would enable him to hit it, his papa 
would say, “Tommy, you will make a fine 
marksman; some day you will shoot big game.” 

Tommy had a little baby brother who was 
only ten months old. Tommy was very fond 
of playing with him and amusing him while his 
mamma was busy spinning or making a coat 
or cap for him — for you must know that all 
the colonial mothers made coats and caps and 
shoes, and almost every article of clothing worn 
in those early days. 

One day when Tommy was busy making a 
bow and arrow, his Mother, taking the baby in 
her arms, said, “I am going to pick some berries 
over in the field. We will have them for our 
supper. We will be back very soon.” 


INDIAN DAYS 


65 

When Mrs. Beckwith reached the field, she 
saw that the largest, finest berries were near 
the edge of the forest. She walked on until she 
reached these fine berries. She placed the 
baby on the ground and wandered on through 
the bushes here and there gathering the berries 
for those she loved and humming a little air 
which her mother had sung in old England. 

As she turned to come back, she saw, through 
the bushes, a sight which startled and horrified 
her. There, only a few rods distant, stood a 
huge bear. He was at that moment walking 
around her sleeping baby. Round and round 
the little body he passed, smelling and sniffing 
and putting his nose close to the child. She 
was about to rush forward, but knew this would 
be of no use. Powerless she stood with her heart 
beating wildly and praying as she never prayed 
before; for the safety of her baby. 

Just a few moments before this. Tommy had 
come out of the house and, as he passed the door, 
he took the gun, which had of late become his 
custom. Scarcely had he reached the field when 
he saw at the farther end of it the big bear sniffing 


66 


INDIAN DAYS 


and walking around a little white object on the 
ground. 

Instantly he realized that the little white 
object was his baby brother, who was lying on 
the ground at the feet of the monster bear. 

Tommy’s heart fluttered with apprehension 
and excitement. He grasped his gun tightly. 
Breathlessly he hurried on, stooping low in the 
tall grass. 

When he came within a safe distance, his eyes 
fastened upon the bear. How his heart palpi- 
tated! How it trembled and fluttered! But 
Tommy said to himself, “Steady, now, steady!” 
In a moment he seemed very calm as he took 
aim saying, “I will shoot that bear. I will kill 
him. I must kill him!” 

The boy made no sound. Not a twig moved 
with his motion as he took aim. He aimed 
straight at the heart of the bear. Bang! bang! 
went the gun. Whiz, whiz! went the ball as it 
whistled through the air. Tommy’s heart 
bounded. He had aimed even better than he 
had dared hope. “I have killed it!” he cried. 

1 he bear tried to stumble off into the woods. 


INDIAN DAYS 


67 


but, with a cry of pain, it staggered into the 
bushes and fell heavily. 

Tommy rushed forward only to meet his 
mother, who clasped him in her loving arms, as 
she knelt over the little child who was now awake, 
unharmed, and cooing to its mother as if nothing 
had happened. 





n 


SHE RAN FORWARD WITH FLYING FEET 







A PIONEER HEROINE 

(Abridged) 

In the long-ago time, when Walpole, beauti- 
fully situated among the green meadows of the 
Connecticut, was a frontier settlement, one of 
its most daring pioneers was the famous scout, 
John Kilburn. He wasi strong as a giant, and 
crafty enough to be more than a match for any 
of his Indian foes. 

Bands of savages had often sought to capture 
him, but he was not to be caught. Upon one 
occasion, when they attacked him in his cabin, 
he and his twelve-year-old daughter Hitty drove 
them away with disastrous slaughter. 

This little maiden not only loaded the four 
muskets that were in the cottage, but more than 
once pointed a weapon through the loop-holes 
herself, firing with so sure an aim that she laid 
low two of the Indians. 

Hitty was her father’s sole housekeeper in the 

69 


70 


INDIAN DAYS 


out-of-the-way cabin that stood more than a 
mile distant from any neighbors. 

For more than a year after their defeat by 
John Kilburn, the Indians did not molest the 
settlement; but one bright autumn day, when 
the men were busy in the harvest fields, a young 
lad came flying homeward from a fishing ex- 
cursion, pale and frightened. He reported that a 
numerous body of Indians were coming down 
the ‘‘long river of pines,’’ as the Connecticut 
was then called, and that ere long the canoe 
of the red warriors would be stranded on the 
beach. 

Instantly a panic seized the affrighted inhabi- 
tants, but presently some of the more hardy 
ones gathered their thoughts about them, and 
taking with them their wives and children, 
their cattle and as much of their precious harvest 
as they could gather in a few brief hours, they 
hastened to the fort and prepared for a vigorous 
defence. 

Then the bell tolled out its warning notes to 
those whose cabins stood on the outskirts of the 
town, that they might know the threatened 


INDIAN DAYS 


71 


danger, and that they might hasten to the shelter 
of the fort before it was too late. 

John Kilburn, on that sad day, was far away 
at the foot of Fall mountain tending his sheep. 
He did not hear the warning bell, but he saw 
the Indians sweeping down with their fleet of 
canoes. And wild with alarm for the safety of his 
little girl, he left his sheep to their fate, and ran 
home through cross paths well known to him. 
He fondly hoped to reach the settlement before 
the fight began. 

Hitty met him at the door. She had prepared 
herself for flight, with her father’s gun in her 
childish hands, and his faithful dogs by her side. 

“Why, Hitty, child! Why don’t you run to 
the fort?” exclaimed her father, panting for 
breath. “If I had been a few minutes later 
red-skins would have had you. Weren’t you 
afraid?” 

“No, father, for I should have shot some of 
them. And then I knew you would certainly 
come, and so I waited. We can go together 
now, for I have all our best things that we can 
carry with us.” 


72 


INDIAN DAYS 


As she spoke, she showed him her pockets, 
filled with the few precious things they owned — 
a handful of silver pieces, the gold beads that had 
been her mother’s, a few silver spoons, and the 
large old-fashioned watch that her father wore 
only on Sundays. 

‘‘You are a careful little housewife, Hitty,” 
said her father, kissing her impulsively. “But 
come, child, we must away. ” 

Seizing her hand he led her along through the 
forest paths. They walked a half mile and then 
halted. Kilburn knew they could not reach the 
fort for the maddened savages were between 
them and that, and where else to go he knew not. 
The forest back of him was probably swarming 
with warriors, and in front his flight to the fort 
was cut off. What could he do .? 

The pioneer’s quick mind soon decided that 
matter. Alone he could save himself and perhaps 
give aid to some poor settler, but Hitty would 
only encumber all his movements and possibly 
endanger her own life. He glanced hastily 
around; no savage eye had perceived them, 
and there was yet time. 


INDIAN DAYS 


73 


Grasping the musket with a tighter grip, he 
swung himself up among the branches of an oak 
beneath which they had been standing, and, 
bending down, drew his child after him. Some 
years before, a blast of lightning had struck the 
tree and shattered a great limb, and though 
outwardly the oak looked strong and healthy, 
with green branches growing up around the 
broken place and hiding the aperture, yet there 
was a deep decayed hollow quite large enough to 
conceal even a full grown man. 

“There, Hitty, you’re safe as in your own 
home, and safer, it may be. No one knows of 
this place, and the Indians won’t think of hunting 
after you. So stay quiet till I come for you.” 

He stooped down and kissed the brave little 
face, and then falling to the ground hastened 
through the forest to the help of those who needed 
him. 

You can imagine it was a long, lonely time to 
Hitty, after she heard her father’s departing 
footsteps, and her little head did much thinking. 
She did not much fancy being up there, like a 
bird in its nest, and she thought to herself that. 


74 


INDIAN DAYS 


small as she was, she could be of more use some- 
where else than in that queer place. 

However, she remained quiet for a time, 
listening to the sighing of the breeze through the 
branches of the trees, the distant firing and the 
whoops of the savages that rang through the 
wild wood. 

Several times she heard footsteps pass her 
hiding place, but the savages, keen sighted as 
they were, did not discover her presence. As 
minute after minute passed she grew restless, 
and after a long time, hearing nothing to alarm 
her, she cautiously descended from her perch. 

Which way to direct her steps she knew not 
at first, but after a brief hesitation she bethought 
herself of the mill on Cold river, which was 
owned by Colonel Bellows, one of the settlers. 
This mill lay in a secret, out-of-the-way nook, 
and the savages might not find it. Besides, 
there were usually half a dozen men there, 
employees of the colonel, and with them she 
would be safe. To attempt to reach the fort 
was a risk too great, and she could not stay 
long where she was. 


INDIAN DAYS 


75 


Hitty still held the gun which she had taken 
from the cottage and she set forward with no 
little trepidation, you may be sure, for she fully 
realized the danger she was incurring. Her 
fears were not lessened by seeing the smoke 
of the burning cabins rising up from the valley, 
while behind her, over the tree-tops, another 
volume of smoke showed that the fiends had 
destroyed their own little cottage on the hillside. 

She ran forward with flying feet, intent now 
on reaching the mill, which was a mile below 
the fort in a south-easterly direction. Most of 
the ground was covered with trees, but there were 
open places here and there, some of them, in 
fact, quite spacious clearings. Suddenly as she 
was passing one of these, she caught sight of 
something which for a moment stayed her pro- 
gress. 

A little rill ran sparkling through a hollow 
lined with trees, beyond which rose a rocky 
knoll; and among the bushes by the side of the 
stream she saw a number of dusky figures. 
She could see the red legs of others through the 
alder bushes, and she was cool enough to count 


76 


INDIAN DAYS 


them — a full score of painted warriors. Their 
purpose she divined on the instant. 

The path from the fort to the mill lay through 
this hollow and over the hill. She had travelled 
it more than once with her father when he had 
gone with his grist of corn to be ground into 
hominy or meal. The crafty foe, rightly sup- 
posing that the men at the mill would pass that 
way, had placed this ambuscade to intercept 
them. If they were not warned the whites were 
sure to be killed. 

Hitty stood flushed and intent only for a 
moment. The mill folks might be on the way 
that very moment. She alone could save them. 
Would there be time for her to do it ? She did 
not dare to think of that, but ran forward at a 
swift pace, skirting the timber till she was out 
of sight of the belted stream in the hollow. Then 
she sprang down the hillside with the speed of a 
frightened deer. 

A dozen men, with bags of meal on their shoul- 
ders and their trusty muskets in their hands, 
defiling from the forest, paused suddenly as the 
flying figure of a young girl rushed among them. 


INDIAN DAYS 


77 


Before she found breath to speak, the leader, 
Colonel Bellows himself, caught her up in his 
arms. 

“Hullo! if it ain’t John Kilburn’s girl!” he 
exclaimed. “What in the world sent you here? 
Is it Indians ? Your face is white as one of our 
flour bags.” 

Hitty could only point over the hill and answer: 
“Yes, it’s Indians. They’re hiding over there. 
I counted twenty, and the fort is surrounded by 
a hundred more.” 

“Well, men,” cried Colonel Bellows, a man 
of the frontier stamp, whose presence of mind 
was not in any way disturbed by the proximity 
of danger, “we came very near running our heads 
into a noose. However, I think we can show 
those red-skins that a white man can be tricky 
too.” Then turning to Hitty, he continued, 
“Run on to the mill as fast as you can. Do not 
stop for anything. We shall follow you very 
soon.” 

Our heroine did not hesitate to obey, but fled 
on by the path she knew so well, while Colonel 
Bellows ordered his men to throw their meal 


78 


INDIAN DAYS 


bags into the bushes, and climb up the hill as 
silently as possible. When they reached the 
brink of the hill they sprang up, uttered a loud 
whoop and dropped into the sweet fern instantly. 
The result was as they had calculated. 

As soon as the savages heard the whoop they 
arose from their ambush and formed a semi- 
circle around the path. This afforded the whites 
a fine opportunity for a shot, which they took 
advantage of. Several of the Indians fell, and 
the remainder took to their heels, without firing 
a gun. The settlers, however, judged it unsafe to 
follow them, and consequently returned to the 
mill, where they found Hitty safe and sound, 
but not a little fatigued by her run and fright. 

'‘You’re as smart as steel,” said the rough- 
spoken colonel, patting her head. “We should 
have been dead men by this time if it had not 
been for you. I’ll tell Kilburn he’ll have to 
look out for his laurels.” 

“Oh, I haven’t done anything,” answered 
Hitty, blushing. “All I did was just to run and 
tell you. A six-year-old boy could have done 
that. If father’s only safe I shall be glad.” 


INDIAN DAYS 


79 


There was little need to be anxious for the 
strong, practical borderer. In good time, when 
the fight was over and the Indian foe had retired, 
John Kilburn arrived at the mill, where he found 
his little daughter, and where there was a thanks> 
giving from those manly hearts for their safe 
deliverance from a fearful peril. 

— F, M. Colby 


(By permission of the author) 










A SEVENTEENTH CENTURY HEROINE 


“Hark! What is that noise?” exclaimed 
Hannah Dustin to her nurse, Mary Neff. 

Mary Neff, the nurse, hastily sprang to her 
feet and anxiously gazed from the little window 
across the fields. Her face turned deadly pale, 
and she clenched her hands as she exclaimed, 
“Indians! Oh, Hannah, that is the Indian 
war-whoop ! What shall we do ? ” 

Hannah Dustin raised her head from her pillow 
and quickly said, “Oh, save the children, Mary!” 

As she spoke, Mr. Dustin, who had been at 
work in the fields, hastily rushed into the house. 
To his seven children he cried, “Run to the 
garrison house! The Indians are coming! Fly 
for your lives!” 

Then he quickly came to the bedside of his 
wife, hoping to be able to remove her to some 
place of safety, but before she could arise, the 
Indians had reached the house. 

8i 


82 


INDIAN DAYS 


‘‘Oh, leave me, and look after our children!” 
cried Mrs. Dustin. The agonized father knew 
not what to do in such a cruel extremity. 

At last, yielding to her frantic entreaties, he 
rushed out hoping to save at least some of his 
children who had instantly obeyed him and had 
started for the garrison house. 

The Indian’s cry of vengeance and terror was 
now heard in another part of the house. 

“We shall be captured and killed,” moaned 
Mary Neff, looking hopelessly at her friend. 
“Give me the baby!” she cried; and, snatching 
up the little seven-days-old baby, Mary Neff 
ran from the room and tried to make her escape 
through a back door. But she fell into the arms 
of two Indians who were entering, and she was 
immediately taken a prisoner. 

Straight into Mrs. Dustin’s room came the 
Indians, all attired in their fighting costumes 
and decorated with war paint. Roughly taking 
hold of Mrs. Dustin, an Indian said, “Get up! 
White squaw must march! Go far!” 

Mrs. Dustin well knew that death would be 
the penalty of disobedience, so she arose, partially 


INDIAN DAYS 


83 


dressed herself and was then quickly dragged 
from the house. 

Just as the two women were being led away, 
the baby began to cry. This noise exasperated 
the Indians who hastily and most unmercifully 
snatched the baby from the arms of the nurse and 
immediately killed it. 

In a few moments more the two women were 
being taken away. As they turned, they saw 
flames bursting forth from various places in the 
little home. The Indians had set fire to the 
house. In a few moments nothing was left of 
the home of the Dustins, in the western part of 
Haverhill, Massachusetts. 

That day of March 15, 1697, was the beginning 
of a long march northward through the wilder- 
ness. Feeble, weak, and with insufficient cloth- 
ing and only one shoe on, Mrs. Dustin was 
compelled to travel one hundred and fifty miles, 
until at last they reached a little island far up 
on the Merrimac River a few miles above Con- 
cord, New Hampshire. On this island, at 
the junction of the Contocook river, these cruel 
captors made their home. Here the Indians, 
with their two prisoners, made a halt. 


84 


INDIAN DAYS 


Several were on the island. Two men, three 
women, and seven young Indian children were 
there, beside an English boy named Samuel 
Lennardson, who had been captured about a 
year before at Worcester. This boy^s heart 
immediately went out to Mrs. Dustin and her 
nurse, Mary. To him, these two women were 
a comfort. They understood his misery and he 
well knew their sufferings. Samuel knew the 
daily horror and dread, the sleepless nights, the 
continual cruelty and threats of the Indians, and 
the ever-hanging death which threatened the 
prisoners. 

A few days after Hannah Dustin and her 
nurse arrived, the Indian captor stood before 
Mrs. Dustin and said, “White squaw go farther.’’ 
Mrs. Dustin soon learned that they were planning 
to take her to a distant point and that when she 
arrived there, she would be compelled to submit 
to physical torture and barbarous treatment 
worse than death. In fact, death seemed far 
preferable to such cruelty. 

Every scheme by which she could escape 
came into the mind of Hannah Dustin. Could 


INDIAN DAYS 


85 


she kill these Indians ? How ? When ? Could 
she escape ? And how ? 

Mrs. Dustin at last decided upon a plan. 
Watching her opportunity, she said to Samuel and 
the nurse, “ I have formed a plan for us to escape, 
but I need your help. Samuel and Mary listened, 
and promised to do all in their power to bring 
about their liberty. 

“Now,’’ said Hannah to Samuel, “you go and 
ask the chief Indian just where he would strike 
if he wished to kill a person instantly. ” 

“Yes, I’ll ask him,” replied Samuel, with 
alertness. 

“And,” added Hannah, with fiery determina- 
tion in her eyes, “you ask him how he would 
take off a scalp.” 

“Yes,” said Samuel, with a shudder. 

The boy did as he was told. He asked the 
chief Indian the questions Hannah had dictated, 
and the Indian replied, “How kill quick ? Ugh! 
Strike ’em here!” and he laid his long brown 
finger upon his temple. Then he clearly 
instructed Samuel how to scalp a person. 

All this valuable information was soon revealed 


86 


INDIAN DAYS 


to Hannah and the boy promised his aid in the 
deadly plot. 

The three who had decided to make this des- 
perate strike for liberty waited until the night 
was far advanced. At midnight, when Hannah 
was fully convinced that every Indian was sound 
asleep, she quietly gave the signal for Mary 
Neff and Samuel to come forward with her. 
Each was. armed. With cautious, stealthy steps, 
and with tomahawks of the warriors in their 
hands, they cautiously advanced and struck the 
fatal blows. Their aim was unerring, and 
quickly they struck the temples of the Indians" 
heads just as the old chief had told Samuel. 

Ten Indians, wrapped up tightly in their 
blankets, were killed at once. They had no time 
to struggle or to defend themselves. Mrs. 
Dustin, with her own hand, killed her captor, 
and Samuel despatched the very Indian who 
instructed him just how to kill a person instantly. 

One Indian squaw escaped and one little 
favorite Indian boy was purposely spared. 
These two fled at once. 

“Now for our escape!’’ cried Hannah. She, 


INDIAN DAYS 


87 


with Mary, collected what provisions there were 
in the wigwam and hastily placed them in a bag. 
“Now we must scuttle all the canoes but one,’’ 
she exclaimed. So she and Samuel and Mary 
took tomahawks and speedily cut holes in the 
bottom and sides of the canoes and set them 
adrift, saving one for themselves. 

It was only a short time before they were ready 
and the three were embarked in the one strong 
canoe and were silently paddling their way out 
on the waters of the Merrimac. 

Suddenly Hannah exclaimed, “Oh, the scalps! 
We must have the scalps! No one will believe 
what we have done unless we have those proofs 
of the deed!” 

Quickly the canoe was turned around and they 
hastened back to the scene of the tragedy. They 
excitedly took off the scalps, hastily put them 
into a bag and were soon once more in the canoe 
on their southward course to Haverhill, where 
they finally arrived in safety. 

What a joyful meeting that was! Mr. Dustin 
had succeeded in getting all his children into the 
garrison on that fateful day when the Indians 


88 


INDIAN DAYS 


had come to his home, but he had mourned his 
wife as dead. Everyone rejoiced to see Mrs. 
Dustin alive and by such a miraculous deed of 
her own bravery. 

On April 21, Mrs. Dustin, Mary Neff and 
Samuel went to Boston and there they related 
their exploit with the Indians. They carried 
with them the Indian gun, the tomahawk, and 
the bag of the ten scalps as proofs of their brave 
deed up on the island of the Merrimac. 

As a reward the General Court gave Mrs. 
Dustin fifty pounds. She also received many 
other valuable presents, among them a gift from 
Colonel Nicholson, who was then the Governor 
of Maryland. 

On the island above Concord, in the Merrimac 
river, has been erected a monument to com- 
memorate the brave deed of this heroine of the 
seventeenth century. There are also monuments 
in Haverhill, Mass., to remind each generation of 

the bravery of Hannah Dustin. 

6 


HOW DANIEL SKATED FOR HIS LIFE 


The morning duties were completed and now, 
after breakfast, Daniel Abbott went forth with 
his dog to drive the cows to pasture. Soon he 
met Nathan Foster, who was coming down 
the lane. 

“Hallo, Nathan,’’ exclaimed Daniel, “got 
your rifle ? ” 

“Yes, of course,” answered Nathan, “but 
I hope the red-skins have gone forever. ” 

As they came nearer, Daniel said, “Come 
here, Nathan, I want to tell you something; 
you must not laugh at me, Nathan, but last 
night I had a dream about the Indians.” 

Nathan gave a prolonged whistle and then, 
with a quick, half-startled look at Daniel, he 
said, “What was your dream, Daniel?” 

“ I dreamed that I was captured by the Indians 
and taken far off,” said Daniel, slowly breaking 
a stick in many pieces and throwing them down 
by the roadside. 


89 


90 


INDIAN DAYS 


Nathan looked up into his friend’s face with 
a strange expression of fear, then suddenly 
smiling he said lightly, ‘‘Oh well, Daniel, that’s 
no sign you will be captured. Since those six 
men were killed last August, the Indians have 
been unusually quiet. ” 

“I know,” said Daniel, resuming his accus- 
tomed lightness of heart,” but one can’t help 
but think of such things sometimes; but here 
we are at the pasture.” 

The cows were led into the pasture one by 
one. The boys, with the dog, were soon 
seated near the edge of the dense wood. Later 
Daniel jumped up, saying, “Come, Nat, let’s 
go down to the bend of the brook and fish.” 

Nathan looked at the cows, and seeing that all 
was quiet, said, “All right, come on.” 

The minutes passed by quickly and twilight 
cast its long shadows across the field, making 
the day seem much shorter than usual to the 
two boys. 

“ Hark! ” said Daniel, “what is the dog barking 
so fiercely at 

Nathan, with his pole partly raised in the 


INDIAN DAYS 


91 


still air, and his face terrified and fixed, turned 
in the direction of the barking and huskily 
exclaimed, “Daniel, it’s Indians!” 

At that very instant, an Indian, who had been 
crouching beside a clump of high bushes, jumped 
forth and quickly seizing Nathan, dragged him 
to the ground. 

Daniel made a desperate attempt to run, but 
he was closely chased by a strong, swarthy In- 
dian, who gained upon him and seizing him by 
the arm, rushed across the fields dragging the 
screaming boy toward the river. 

Daniel gave one backward glance and saw 
his friend Nathan fall to the ground by a blow 
delivered by the Indian’s tomahawk. 

Farther and farther away the Indians took 
Daniel Abbott. After a time they reached a 
great lake. Here the Indians had a little settle- 
ment and here Daniel was to live with them. 
The old chief grew quite fond of Daniel — in 
his way — and treated him with a kindness 
he had not shown to other captives in the 
past. 

Daniel was allowed to fish with some of the 


92 


INDIAN DAYS 


young Indians, again he played games with them, 
and hunted through the forest with them. Many 
a night, when lying awake and listening to the 
water as it lapped against the shore of the lake, 
or while watching the stars above him, Daniel 
would try to think of some way by which he 
could escape and go back to his home. Tears 
would fill his eyes as he thought of his mother 
at home grieving for him. 

The Indian squaws, however, never saw 
these tears, for Daniel tried to be bright and 
cheerful before them. In return, they gave 
him their softest woven mats, they begged him 
to eat their best morsels of food, they decorated 
his moccasins with their gayest beads and adorned 
his neck with strings of their richest wampum. 
As the winter advanced they insisted that he 
wear their warmest, softest furs. No, Daniel 
was not treated with the cruelty that he knew 
many a captive endured. 

One day in the winter, the Indian braves 
went forth to a distant settlement to rob the 
inhabitants and plunder their homes. They 
soon returned with scalps and a miscellaneous 


INDIAN DAYS 


93 


collection of plunder. Then what a feast of 
rejoicing was held! 

The inquisitive Indian squaws eagerly pressed 
around to examine the trophies and the plunder. 
With strange grimaces and grotesque actions 
they examined the various articles brought 
back by these Indians. 

One squaw danced about in glee as she suc- 
ceeded in hanging a large pair of scissors to her 
ears; another squaw grunted in a most satisfied 
manner when she found that an old empty 
candlestick was just a fit for her thumb; a third 
became interested in loosening a chain from an 
old kettle, and then she wound the chain about 
her neck with immense pride. 

Suddenly all the squaws uttered an exclama- 
tion of unfeigned delight as one brave brought 
forth a string of several pairs of skates. How 
they shone! Daniel’s eyes glistened as he saw 
them. A thought flashed through his mind at 
once and he watched all the Indians very closely. 
He saw at once that every Indian there was 
ignorant of the use of skates. Suddenly ad- 
vancing, Daniel stretched forth his arms, looked 


94 


INDIAN DAYS 


Upward, and with great solemnity said, ‘‘Great 
Spirit, behold! These gifts are from Thee.” 

Bowing very low, and touching the skates 
with devout reverence, Daniel added gravely, 
“Behold this thy Chief, and all his followers! 
Behold we now serve thee!” 

Daniel raised his head, but immediately throw- 
ing it backward, closed his eyes and with arms 
still upraised cried out, “What does the Great 
Spirit bid us to do.^” 

A great and solemn stillness fell upon the little 
Indian group. Not a man uttered a word. 
The silence was unbroken save for a dead twig 
which fell to the ground near them. 

All this singular exhibition of intense feeling 
on Daniel’s part deeply interested and impressed 
these Indians, who, with wide-open eyes crowded 
closely around Daniel. 

The longed-for and prayed-for time had cer- 
tainly arrived; for Daniel now fully believed he 
held the key to the Great Spirit’s Happy Hunting 
Ground, for the old Chief looked puzzled 
and the others were troubled. They gazed at 
each other and shook their heads solemnly. 


INDIAN DAYS 


95 


At last, the Chief, approaching nearer to 
Daniel, cautiously said, “Explain, Pale Face, 
tell us all you know of this strange sign/’ 

Daniel now plainly saw his opportunity, and, 
assuming a still greater degree of gravity, said, 
in a tone of funereal lamentation, “Listen, ye 
Powerful! I will tell you how you may listen 
to the command of the Great Spirit.” 

Swinging the skates from right to left before 
him slowly, slowly, then faster and faster, Daniel, 
with uplifted head and closed eyes said, with a 
thrilling, awe-inspiring tone, “Hark ye! The 
Great Spirit speaks!” 

Crowding closer around the boy, the chief 
in a quick, hoarse whisper cried out, “Tell us 
what we must do ! ” 

The boy, rejoicing in the discovery of their 
weakness and their belief in his nonsense, said 
with many gestures, “We are commanded to 
go down to the water’s edge.” 

Leading the way, Daniel said, “There I will 
make known to you how to use these mysterious 
symbols, ” and he pointed reverently to the string 
of skates which he held in his hands and touched 


96 


INDIAN DAYS 


often with a caressing stroke across the shiny 
steel. The Indians, with cautious steps and 
wondering eyes, slowly followed Daniel down 
to the edge of the lake which was now frozen. 

Several of the Indians remained upon the shore, 
but, at Daniel’s request, four of the braves 
walked out some distance, and at Daniel’s word 
of command, they sat down upon the ice. 

Daniel then knelt at their feet and securely 
and tightly bound the skates to their feet. He 
had previously examined each pair and had 
wisely kept for his own use the sharpest and 
strongest pair of all. This pair he quickly 
fastened to his feet. Then, facing the South- 
west, with many a grotesque gyration and awe- 
inspiring gesture, he again stretched his arms 
out before him. 

Suddenly he turned about, and with marked 
and deep reverence, he bowed to the great Chief. 
Then he slowly skated around each Indian, 
touching the head of each lightly as he passed. 
Then Daniel skated in wider and wider circles 
about the Indians, who looked at the strange 
performance with wondering eyes. They were 


INDIAN DAYS 


97 


gravely aghast at the wild manoeuvers of the 
white-faced boy on these mysterious skates. 
With a sudden and unexpected action the boy 
shouted, “Get up! To your feet! The Great 
Spirit calls us all! Follow me!” 

With quick and uncertain movements, the 
Indians attempt to rise. Their clumsy feet slip 
and slide. Down one falls upon his nose. Down 
another falls upon his back with his skate-bound 
feet kicking violently in mid-air; down a third 
falls with oaths in Indian language which were 
expressive; and the fourth one of all tumbles 
headlong across all the others, who are frantically 
trying to extricate themselves from their skates. 

Quickly they pick themselves up only to fall 
again and again, now forward, now backward, 
groaning and threatening vehemently. The 
stumbling Indians are thoroughly frightened 
and bruised, and all are yelling and shouting 
at once. 

Daniel hearing them, looked around hastily 
but once. Away he sped across the ice. Every 
muscle was exerted to its utmost, for Daniel 
was now skating for his life. On and on his 


98 


INDIAN DAYS 


skates flashed over the frozen lake; past trees, 
rocks, and reeds he fairly flew. 

Something whizzed past his head and shot 
ahead of him. What was that ? It was an arrow 
from the Indians on the shore. One after 
another shot near him, but not one had yet 
struck him. 

Looking ahead, Daniel saw a point of land 
which, if once reached, would ensure his safety. 
With renewed energy and summoning all his 
strength, he sped on. His one thought is to 
reach the distant point of land, and once around 
the bend, he would be beyond the reach of the 
arrows. 

Every nerve is strained. Nearer and nearer he 
gains the bend in the lake. Thank God! it is 
reached! 

Daniel takes his first long breath, glances 
backward and skates slower now. Can it be 
possible he has really begun his long-wished-for 
return to his friends, his father, brothers, and best 
of all — his mother ? His heart beat violently 
and his eyes dimmed with tears; but for an 
instant only. He quickly brushed his hand 


INDIAN DAYS 


99 


across his eyes and closely scanned the shore to 
select a place of safety for a moment’s rest before 
continuing his long journey. 

The Indians, now far behind him, returned 
to their wigwams, where the squaws set up a wail 
and lamentation, for they fully believed the 
Great Spirit had sent for Daniel. 

After a time Daniel reached his home in 
Penacook. The joyful news that Daniel Abbott 
had returned soon spread through the settlement. 
The loving mother tightly clasped her boy once 
more, although he was almost hidden by his deer- 
skin coat, Indian leggins and furs. Never had 
there been greater cause for rejoicing in that 
home. 




A GIRL’S HEROISM 

(A Story of Early Days in New Hampshire) 


It was in the spring of 1691. The town of 
Old Dunstable lay quiet and beautiful amid 
its circle of green forests. The Indian Wars 
were not yet over, and the red man still con- 
tested the ground which had been the prized 
hunting-lands of his fathers. For two or three 
years, however, their molestations had been 
few, and Mart Thurston felt no apprehension 
as to the safety of his children. 

Lily was sixteen, strong and thoughtful be- 
yond her years, and he had full confidence 
in her ability to guard the cottage in his absence. 
He performed his business at the village, and 
long before sun-down was on his way home. 

To the children the day had been full of 
joy and sunshine and happy freedom. Dick 
had been full of his antics through all the 
long hours, and Lily had petted him in every 

lOI 


102 


INDIAN DAYS 


humor. The girl had no thought of danger. 
An Indian had not passed the cottage in many 
days and if one should menace her now, there 
was an extra rifle hanging above the door, 
which she could use equally as well as the 
most experienced pioneer. 

Slowly the long spring day drew to a close. 
The shadows grew longer upon the greensward, 
while the bright orb hung low over the western 
tree-tops. Little Dick had crept away to sleep, 
tired with his play. Lily was busy with 
preparations for supper, for she expected her 
father at any moment. The tea-kettle sung 
over the embers on the hearth; the white 
cloth was spread over the rough, pine-board 
table, and the young housekeeper was drawing 
the cake from the coals, when the door softly 
opened. Lily looked up with a flushed face, 
expecting to meet her father’s eye, but she 
saw an Indian standing on the threshold. 

The savage was a huge, muscular fellow, 
who looked as if the strength of a giant lay in 
his stalwart frame. His face was painted in 
hideous stripes, and his black, wild-looking 


INDIAN DAYS 


103 


eyes blazed with an evil light. He was clad 
in full savage costume, with feathers in his 
hair and fanciful ornaments decorating his 
gaudy trappings. At his back were a bow 
and quiver, a tomahawk was thrust within 
his belt, and he leaned upon a long rifle. 

‘‘Me Pennacook warrior. Metamocet want 
fire-water; must have it quick, or kill white 
squaw,” said the Indian savagely. 

All the native bravery of her soul came to 
Lily Thurston. She arose calmly, and facing 
him with her small, lithe body raised to its 
fullest height, she answered: “We have no 
fire-water; my father does not keep it.” 

“White Squaw tells a lie. No deceive Meta- 
mocet. Here fire-water,” and the warrior laid 
his huge hand upon a bottle that stood upon a 
shelf, and, raising it to his lips, drank eagerly 
of its contents. The next moment, however, 
he was down on hands and knees upon the 
floor, spitting, coughing and gesticulating most 
grotesquely. 

The bottle contained oil, and even an In- 
dian’s hardy stomach and stoical nature could 


104 


INDIAN DAYS 


not resist the influence of the unctuous liquid. 
Despite the unpleasantness of her situation, 
Lily could not refrain from smiling at his 
ridiculous plight. The Pennacook’s brow 
darkened; as he rose to his feet he laid his 
hand upon his hatchet. 

‘‘White squaw poor fool. Laugh another 
way soon!'’ he exclaimed angrily. “Meta- 
mocet big brave; burn house; take scalp — 
hers and another one!” and he pointed to 
the slumbering child, still unawakened by 
the tumult. 

The girl's face paled instantly. With a 
half-smothered cry she sprang to the side of 
her baby brother, as if she would defend him 
with her life. It was an unwise action, for 
it betrayed her weakest point. The Indian 
saw at once how he could work upon her feel- 
ings, and he was not slow in improving his 
advantages. 

“White boy must die,'' said the savage, 
approaching with raised tomahawk and grasp- 
ing a lock of Dick's hair. “His scalp shall 
hang in Metamocet's lodge.'' 


INDIAN DAYS 


105 

“Oh, save him! save him!” exclaimed Lily 
in agonized tones, flinging her arms about her 
brother’s neck. “Do with me as you wish, 
but do not harm this innocent child. You 
cannot be so cruel!” 

“Metamocet is not a squaw. Must have 
scalp — two of them,” and the hatchet flashed 
threateningly above his head. 

The young girl, heroic as a lioness at bay, 
was undaunted. She had a moment to act 
and that moment was enough. She sprang 
away, and seizing the loaded rifle from its 
resting place, she raised it to her shoulder, 
looking over its glistening barrel with deter- 
mined eyes. 

“Throw down your hatchet!” she said de- 
cidedly. “Let it come one inch nearer that 
child’s head and you will never live a second 
after.” 

The Indian knew by her eye that she was 
not to be trifled with. Cowed and abashed, 
he turned away; but in his eyes there flashed 
a new danger to the brave girl. Folding his 
arms upon his broad breast, he said shortly. 


io6 INDIAN DAYS 

gazing upon her radiant and beautiful face, 
“The pale face squaw has a warrior’s heart. 
Only a warrior should mate with her. She 
is too brave and beautiful to be the wife of a 
coward Yengese. If Metamocet spares her 
scalp, will she be his squaw ? His lodge is 
lonely and he will treat her as a Sagamore treats 
his bride.” 

The Indian’s great eyes glowed like coals of 
fire. The tones of his voice were eager and 
earnest. 

“Let the white maiden answer,” he con- 
tinued, as he advanced near where she stood. 
“Metamocet is big brave. He take good care 
of pale face squaw.” 

Well it would have been for him had he 
noticed what was behind him. The trap-door 
which led to the cellar was up, and he stood 
directly before it. Lily saw it all at a glance, 
and a bold thought came to her mind. In 
that moment of danger, to think was to act. 

With a short involuntary prayer, she sum- 
moned all her strength and gave him a quick, 
sudden push. The Indian threw up his hands. 


INDIAN DAYS 


107 

but could not save himself. Staggering he 
lost his balance, and with a wild yell fell back 
into the yawning pit behind him. 

Lily waited for no more. With a quick 
motion she threw down the trap-door, and 
securely fastened it. The next moment, woman- 
like, her strength gave way and she sank down 
fainting beside her little brother. 

Here her father found her a few minutes 
later when he returned, bringing with him 
Howard Walton. The Indian was found dead 
at the cellar-bottom, his neck having been 
broken by the fall. But it was long before 
the settlers of that region forgot the noble 
heroism of that young girl. 




A BRAVE COLONIAL MAID 


Betty Adams rushed breathlessly into her 
mother’s presence saying, ‘‘O mother! I have 
just heard that two of our men have been killed 
by the Indians who have been near our settlement 
for several days.” Catching her breath, she 
added, ‘‘And two other men at the creek have 
been taken captives. ” 

Betty crossed the room and looked sharply 
at the flintlock gun which she had learned to 
manage almost as well as her big brother, who, 
with her father, was now away in the fields. 

Betty’s mother and father had one of the 
strongest houses in the little settlement. It 
was well protected, but her mother said, “The 
next house is a far better protection should the 
Indians really make an attack. I hardly think 
there is any cause for anxiety yet,” and she 
turned to her spinning by the wheel. 

Fifteen women and children all lived in this 


no 


INDIAN DAYS 


one house; for it was the custom, in these old 
colonial days, for many persons to live under 
one roof. To-day the men were working in 
the distant field and only Betty seemed to feel 
that danger was near. She could not take up 
her work as usual. Something seemed to say, 
“Keep watch, Betty; the Indians are near.” 

She took one of the children in her arms and 
tried to amuse it, but every few moments her 
eyes peered closely into the field and then into 
the woods that were back of their house. She 
was alert, quick to see, brave in action and 
fearless in a time of danger. 

The morning hours passed and Betty was 
saying to herself, “Father said yesterday that 
we have no cause for alarm and he knows.” 

She was about to go to her spinning when 
she once more looked out. Her eyes caught sight 
of an Indian who was cautiously creeping along 
through the thickets and underbrush at the 
back of the house some distance. Through 
the thicket she caught sight of another red- 
brown face, then another and another mahogany 
form she discerned through the interlacing 


INDIAN DAYS 


III 


twigs and all were stealthily creeping along in 
the underbrush. 

For two days these Indians had been lurking 
and skulking around this house, watching with 
keen eyes the inmates — and the watchfulness 
of the Indian is ever as keen as that of a wild 
beast. Now with moccasined feet they trod 
softly among the brittle twigs, dry leaves and 
dead branches. Silently as a cougar they came 
nearer with no warning to the inmates, and 
at this very moment no one but Betty knew the 
peril. 

Quickly she shut the door and instantly drew 
the heavy strong bolt. Grasping the musket 
in her hand, she stood against the great door, 
and calling to the other women, she said, ‘‘Run, 
every one of you! Run for your lives! The 
Indians are right upon us ! Run into the next 
house!” 

One glance at Betty’s face convinced every 
woman of the horrible truth of her words. One 
after another hurried forth while there was yet 
time to save themselves and their children. 

Betty, with a brave heart and unflinching 


II2 


INDIAN DAYS 


courage, stood resolutely against the door, heed- 
ing not the words of expostulation which came 
from some of the women. They urged her to 
flee, but Betty well knew that some one must 
hold the Indians at bay while the women were 
making their escape. Already she heard the 
steps of the Indians. They were at the door 
and the movement of assault had already 
begun. 

‘‘Open this door!’’ demanded an Indian. 

But Betty had no such intention, you may 
be sure. 

“Unfasten the door!” again came the im- 
perious demand. 

But Betty’s lithe form straightened up and 
her lips were more firmly pressed together than 
before. Betty had no such thought m her 
mind as opening the door. She could hear 
the women and the children escaping over the 
fence to the next house. Her one thought was: 

“O, if I can only keep the Indians outside 
until all the women are safe in the next house!” 

The Indians, finding that demands or threats 
were unavailing, now took their hatchets and 


INDIAN DAYS 


IT3 

began to chop through the heavy door. Pound, 
pound, chop, chop, their hatchets rang out as 
they tried to break open the door by force. 
In all directions flew the chips and splinters. 

Betty saw their savage faces gleaming through 
the apertures and every moment she expected 
to receive a blow that would kill her, but with 
wonderful adroitness she, with her musket, 
turned aside every blow that threatened harm 
to herself. More than this, she aimed so well 
and so cleverly, and so quickly did she fire, 
that one of the Indians, with a great howl of 
rage and pain, fell backward mortally wounded. 

This act excited the remaining Indians to 
renew their blows. And presently a wide 
entrance was made and through this, with a 
wild, taunting whoop, a savage Indian leaped, 
followed by others. 

With one blow the first Indian knocked the 
brave girl to the floor. 

‘‘Pale Face dead now!” he exclaimed. 
“Pale Face can do Red Men no more harm. 
Newichwannock Pale Face dead!” and with 
more yells, he leaped across the form of the 


INDIAN DAYS 


1 14 

unconscious girl and strode through the house 
in savage pursuit of the others. Instantly 
the Indians discovered that the women and 
children were making their retreat to the 
next house. 

With brutal howls and mad yells and hideous 
noises, they ran out of the opposite door follow- 
ing closely upon the tracks of the last woman 
and little girl who had clambered over the 
fence. 

Just at that moment, the men, with their 
muskets, came from the field and at once began 
firing with such a volley and so unerringly that 
the Indians beat a hasty retreat through the 
woods. They were soon lost in the jungle of 
the dense forest which closed over them as 
effectually and offered as much safety and 
left no more trace than the waves leave over 
the pebble that is dropped into the sea. 

It was of no use for the white men of that 
house to follow them. They immediately bent 
over the girl who had been left for dead, but 
who was showing signs of consciousness. Un- 
ceasingly they worked over her, applying all 


INDIAN DAYS 


1 15 

their known remedies for restoration. Soon 
her eyes slowly opened, the girl regained con- 
sciousness and in a few hours she told her 
story to the anxious ones who lovingly nursed 
her back to life. In a few weeks she was 
entirely healed of her wound. 

The men, women, and children of that little 
frontier town never forgot her brave heroism 
when all their lives were in peril. Had it not 
been for her dauntless heroism every person in 
the house might have been seized, bound, 
taken captive or killed. 



IS YOU SICK?” 




WILT THOU NAME THE TRAITOR? 


Little Miss Stacy was only three years old, 
but her brother was older — “Oh, ever so much 
older!” he said. He was five years old. 

These two children lived in a log house which 
Mr. Stacy had built. They were friendly with a 
neighboring tribe of Indians and Mr. Stacy had 
made himself useful to them in a variety of ways 
which were highly estimated by the Indians. 

One day, Mrs. Stacy and the two children were 
alone in the house when suddenly the little girl 
looked up from her playthings and running to her 
mother’s side, said, “Here turns old Naoman!” 

Looking up, Mrs. Stacy saw the face of the 
old Indian, Naoman, who had often come to their 
house and who had greatly enjoyed their friend- 
liness and hospitality. There was a particular 
friendship between Mr. Stacy and this old Indian, 
who never forgot the benefits received at the 
little log house. 


ii8 


INDIAN DAYS 


The Indian stepped into the room, lighted 
his pipe and very quietly sat down without a 
word. The little girl looked at him curiously 
from her bright eyes and wondered why old 
Naoman was so serious. He sighed several 
times. The little girl crept nearer to the old 
Indian and at last her tender heart prompted 
her to touch his arm and she anxiously said, 
“ Is you sick 

The Indian glanced at her quickly, then closing 
his eyes he solemnly and slowly shook his head. 
“What is the matter, Naoman.?” asked Mrs. 
Stacy. 

The old Indian did not even look up this time, 
but, leaning his head upon his hand, he sighed 
deeply and said nothing. In a few moments 
he arose and went away. 

The following day the little daughter said, 
“Here turns Naoman again.” Sure enough; 
Naoman was there again. This was indeed 
strange. He walked in, lighted his pipe and 
sat down without saying a word. After a few 
moments, he arose and left the house. 

“How strangely Naoman acts!” said Mrs. 


INDIAN DAYS 


119 

Stacy, as she told her husband that evening of 
the old Indian’s second call. 

“ Make him explain the reason for his actions 
the next time he calls,” replied Mr. Stacy. “It 
does not seem like Naoman to remain so silent.” 

The next day Naoman came again. This 
time, Mrs. Stacy said, “Naoman, what troubles 
you?” He did not reply. “Tell me what 
troubles you,” insisted Mrs. Stacy. 

At length, the old man said, “ I am a Red Man, 
and Pale Faces are our enemies; why should I 
tell you ? ” 

“But my husband and I are not your enemies; 
you have been here many, many times; you 
have eaten with us; my children have sat upon 
your knees. If anything troubles you, Naoman, 
tell it to me.” 

Naoman looked up at the woman quickly, then 
replied, “I would be killed if it were known that 
I told you. White Faced Women are not 
good at keeping secrets.” 

“Tell me, and see if what you say is true,” 
replied Mrs. Stacy. 

“Naoman hesitated a moment, then taking 


120 


INDIAN DAYS 


a long breath he said, ‘‘Will you swear by your 
Great Spirit that you will tell no one but your 
husband ? ’’ 

“I do swear by our Great Spirit that I will 
tell none but my husband,” answered the be- 
wildered woman. 

“Not if my tribe should kill you for not telling ? 
asked Naoman, keenly watching her face. 

“Not if your tribe should kill me for not 
telling,” replied the woman fearlessly looking 
the old Indian in the eyes. 

Then Naoman, said, “The white men below 
the mountains not far away, have irritated our 
tribe; to-night our tribe have planned to kill all 
the white men within their reach; you must get 
your husband, tell him the danger, take your 
canoe quick and paddle across the river. Be 
quick!” 

After disclosing this information Naoman 
departed. 

Mrs. Stacy immediately called her husband, 
who was some distance away and fishing by the 
river bank. She told him the danger and added, 
“We must lose no time.” 


INDIAN DAYS 


I2I 


“But our boat is filled with water,” said Mr. 
Stacy, “and it will take some time to get the 
water out of it. ” 

“Never mind,” said Mrs. Stacy, “it is our 
only safety. We must hurry! ” 

Together they cleared the boat, which took 
some time, as Mr. Stacy had said. Then, this 
being done, Mr. Stacy, his wife and children 
got into the boat and were about to row across 
the river. 

“ My gun, my gun! ” said Mr. Stacy. “ I must 
have my gun; it is at the house! I must get it!” 

And away Mr. Stacy went for the gun. Now 
all this work took many valuable minutes and 
every second was precious for the safety of his 
family. At length he returned with the gun and 
the little family rowed a short distance, when 
five Indians with their canoes gave chase. 

It seems that the frequent visits of Naoman 
to the Stacy house, and the movements of the 
family, had excited the suspicion of some of the 
Indians who had watched the family closely. 
One of the Indians on the watch had seen the 
family get into the boat, so he quickly ran to the 


122 


INDIAN DAYS 


Indian village about a mile distant and gave the 
alarm. Five Indians immediately ran to the 
river, where their canoes were moored and they 
jumped into their canoes and as fast as they 
could, they paddled after Mr. Stacy’s boat, which 
was some distance out in the stream. 

The Indians gained upon the boat very rap- 
idly. Once they were so near that Mr. Stacy 
dropped his paddle, took up his gun and 
was about to fire, but his wife interfered by 
saying, “ Don’t fire ! If you do, and we are cap- 
tured, the Indians will show us no mercy. They 
will kill us all if you fire upon them!” 

Mr. Stacy knew this was true, so he laid down 
his gun, took up his paddle once more, and with 
the perspiration rolling down his face he plied his 
paddle vigorously with all the strength he could 
summon. If only he could reach the other shore! 
He bent forward straining every muscle, but all 
was in vain. Just as they were within one 
hundred yards of the shore, the Indians overtook 
the little party and, with yells of triumph, they 
took the little family back across the river as their 
captives. 


INDIAN DAYS 


123 


As soon as they reached the shore from which 
Mr. Stacy had tried to escape, the Indians set 
fire to the little home where the family had so 
happily lived and they saw it burn to the 
ground. 

This being done, the Indians dragged Mr. 
Stacy, his wife, and the two children to their 
Indian village. When they reached the Indian 
village, the old Indians, with Naoman among 
them, assembled to decide what should be done. 

The old Chief, dressed in tanned buckskin 
of the brightest yellow, strode forth from his 
lodge, and, standing before all, said, ‘‘ Some 
one of us here has been guilty of treason! Who 
is it ? What Indian told Stacy of our plan ? 
Who told him to flee across the river? I must 
learn what Indian gave this information. Our 
prisoners know what Indian told them to escape. 
I will examine the prisoners.’’ 

After saying this, the Chief turned to Mr. 
Stacy with the question, “Who told you of our 
plans ?” 

“I cannot tell you,” replied Mr. Stacy in un- 
faltering tones. 


124 


INDIAN DAYS 


The Chief next turned to Mrs. Stacy, saying, 
‘‘Who told you of our plans ^ Who told you to 
escape V 

Mrs. Stacy remained silent. Again the Chief 
asked the question. Still Mrs. Stacy refused to 
betray her informant. 

At this moment, two Indians were commanded 
to stand over the two children with raised toma- 
hawks. The Indian Chief once more began 
his questioning. Mrs. Stacy, in desperation, 
attempted to evade the truth by speaking of a 
dream which she had the previous night. The 
dream had so alarmed her that she had persuaded 
her husband to flee. 

The Chief looked down at the woman for a 
moment, adjusted the bunch of arrows which 
were suspended by a thong of deerskin from his 
shoulders, and placing his hand instinctively 
upon his tomahawk, which was secured to his 
waist by a girdle of deerskin, he said threaten- 
ingly, “The Great Spirit never deigns to talk in 
dreams to a White Face. Woman, thou hast 
spoken false! Speak the truth or thy children 
shall die!’’ 


INDIAN DAYS 


125 


Her little boy and girl were brought close to 
her side. Each clung to her skirt and sobbing, 
said, “Oh, tell, mamma! tell!’’ The two sav- 
ages stood over the children with their raised 
tomahawks. 

“Wilt thou name the traitor.?” demanded the 
Chief?” I will ask thee three times. 

Still Mrs. Stacy remained silent. 

After a moment’s hesitation, the tall Chief 
again said, “Wilt thou name the traitor? This 
is the second time.” 

The poor mother looked anxiously at her 
husband, then, with trembling hand she reached 
forth for her children and glanced at Naoman 
who stolidly sat smoking his pipe with indifferent 
gravity. Mrs. Stacy wrung her hands and the 
tears streamed down her fair face, but she re- 
mained silent. 

Tossing his head backward the Chief, for the 
third and last time said solemnly, “Wilt thou 
name the traitor?” 

Bitter agony was written on the features of 
Mrs. Stacy’s face. Her body trembled beneath 
the gaze of the Chief. Again she sought the eye 


126 


INDIAN DAYS 


of old Naoman, but it was indifferent, cold, 
motionless. 

“Mother! Mother!” cried out the boy in his 
terror, “do not let us die!” Only the sobbing 
of the children was co be heard. A moment’s 
pause and the two tomahawks were raised 
higher preparatory to giving the death blow, 
when suddenly Naoman rushed forward crying, 
“Stop!” 

All eyes were directed to this old Indian who 
had so vehemently commanded the Chief to stop. 
He stepped in front of Mrs. Stacy and said, 
“White Woman, thou hast kept thy word with 
me to the very last moment. “Then, turning 
to the Chief, Naoman said, “/ am the traitor. 
I have eaten in the home of these people. I have 
rested, smoked, and warmed myself at their 
fire. I have received many a kindness from 
these Christian white people. We have all 
received benefits frcjm their hands. It was I 
who told them of their danger. Cut me down. 
Kill me, if you will, but spare the lives of these 
two children and keep sorrow from the hearts 
of these — our friends.” 


INDIAN DAYS 


127 


On all sides there arose a burst of indignant 
yells. Naoman knew he would be given no 
mercy. Winding his face with his old mantle of 
skins, he stepped before his chief and with true 
Indian valor, submitted to his fate. 

One blow of the tomahawk, and Naoman fell 
dead at the feet of the white woman who would 
not betray him. 







I 


15 loJi' 



J 




